


Lines Crossed

by EscapeTheRace



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapeTheRace/pseuds/EscapeTheRace
Summary: John realizing he has feelings for Harold but not knowing what to do with it.The most bisexual POI fic no one wanted or asked for.Mainly Rinch but mentions of Shoot and possibly more later on.Slow burn. The slowest of burns. First chapter is short but others will be longer.
Relationships: Harold Finch & John Reese, Harold Finch/John Reese, Root | Samantha Groves & Sameen Shaw, Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	1. Stakeout Convos

Shaw and Reese were set up on the rooftop with two sniper rifles scoped in to their newest numbers apartment. It was early in the morning, the sun had just come up, and both agents were more than tired after being there all night. 

Reese had ben agitated and distracted lately, even Shaw had noticed. It must have been the lack of sleep from the last couple weeks that made Reese break—or at least that’s what he was telling himself as he opened his mouth.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked in his signature deep, husky voice.

“You just did.”

“You and Root, you get along pretty well, right?”

Shaw turned her head slightly to look at Reese. This was one of the weirder conversations they’d had.

“I wouldn’t say that. I tolerate her. Barely.”

“You two live together.”

“I still have my own place!”

Reese sighed. He was extraordinarily bad at this. Shaw wasn’t exactly stellar at it either. Right then a convoy pulled up to their numbers apartment and a group of people with guns jumped out.

“Go time,” Shaw said. Just like that, the conversation was over.


	2. It Was Like Talking to Myself

It was two weeks later and Shaw and Reese were leaving the library for the night when Reese tried to bring it up again.

“Say how about we catch a drink, Shaw?”

Shaw raised an eyebrow and stopped dead in her tracks. “A drink? Reese what is your deal? You’ve acting stranger than usual for going on a month now. If this is about Bear liking me more—”

“Why can’t two, friendly coworkers get a drink? Cops do it all the time.”

Shaw studied him up and down. Root and Finch had been worried about Reese and as much as Shaw hated to admit they were anything other than competitive coworkers, a small, barely audible voice in her head said she should play along. But not without getting something out of it for herself.

“Fine. But you’re buying me a burger. I know just the place.”

The place was a shitty sports bar that didn’t have a name outside of it, but Reese couldn’t exactly be picky. They walked in and sat at the bar. Reese ordered two shots of whiskey and two beers, without speaking the coworkers clinked glasses, downed the shots, and chased them with the beer. It was an unspoken agreement that if they were going to have to talk about non-work related stuff, they both needed a little liquid encouragement. Shaw ordered for both of them and Reese couldn’t care less—he was too nervous to eat.

After they ate (Reese knew better than to interrupt Shaw when she was eating) and they were a couple of drinks in, Reese finally opened his mouth.  
“You and Root—”

“What about us Reese?”

Reese paused for a moment to figure out to phrase it.

“Well, before you and Root got together, you dated men. Right?”

“Are you trying to have a threesome, Reese? Because I swear to god. I may be bi but—”

“That’s exactly what I meant!”

Shaw’s eyes got wide and she looked like she was going to kneecap him. “You’re trying to solicit a threesome? What in the—”

Reese shook his head and his eyes grew wide. That was NOT what he meant. “No! I meant, eh, the other part.”

“The bi part?”

“Yeah. That.”

“What about it?” Shaw asked incredulously.

Reese hesitated for a minute. “How’d you know that you were, um—”

“Bi. Its just a word Reese for fucks sake.”

Reese nodded. “Yes. Bi.”

Shaw stared him up and down for a second. This was not any of the over 100 topics she thought John Reese and her would ever discuss. She was also wholly unprepared to give an answer.

“Why are you asking—”

“Just answer the question, Shaw.”

Shaw shifted. She didn’t know how to answer the question. Finally she rolled her eyes and spit out her response. “I guess it was Root. I don’t know. There had been a couple others when I was younger. Sex with women has never been a big deal, I just never seemed to give a shit about them. Any of them. Regardless of gender. I realized I could enjoy sex with any person I found attractive. But Root was the first person I didn’t feel like getting rid of as much.”

John nodded and stared off in to the distance. Harold. He had never wanted to get rid of Harold, if anything he couldn’t stand not being with him. When they were apart, John found himself wondering what Finch was up to—if he was eating enough, sleeping enough, taking his meds. What books he was reading, what tea he was drinking, what new suit he was going to spend an ungodly amount on. Other things too—like what Finch looked like when he slept. Noises he may make when--he was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice Shaw talking to him.

“Reese?”

“Huh? Oh sorry. Right. Well, this was a good talk Shaw.” Reese threw down his credit card to pay. He didn’t want what he knew was coming next. 

“So are you gonna tell me why you’re suddenly interested in the Kinsey scale?”

“The what?”

Shaw rolled her eyes and rephrased. “You thinkin’ about kissing boys?”

Suddenly Reese was anxious to get away from the bar. It wasn’t that he had any problem discussing men kissing men, it was just the combination of being stuck in a bar with Shaw and being terrified she was going to figure out who. The bartender still hadn’t taken his card and he was feeling boxed in.

“I already have.” Reese expected this to be a bigger revelation to Shaw than it actually was.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding us all lately? Got yourself a new side number you’re working?” Shaw grinned. Teasing each other had always been something they both enjoyed.

“Actually it was a long time ago.”

Shaw nodded and wasn’t sure she should press anymore. Reese side eyed her as the bartender took his card and he continued on.

“Once in high school and once in Afghanistan.”

“No way? I also was kissing boys in high school and Afghanistan! I bet I bagged more guys than you.”

Reese signed the receipt and put his card back in his wallet. “Maybe. But I bet I bagged more girls.”

Shaw grinned and they both made their way outside. When they turned to go their separate ways, Reese said, “Hey I’d appreciate—”

“I won’t say anything. I should have asked for a steak though. That was brutal—it was like talking to myself.”


	3. I Thought You Said You'd Never Lie to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning I didn't proofread it

That night, Reese was pacing in his apartment. He didn’t know what to do. His conversation with Shaw had given him more insight into what was going on with himself but not into what to do about it. Should he even try? Maybe he should forget about it—that’s probably what was best for the entire team. He sighed and laid back in bed. He tried to sleep but he couldn’t. He just kept thinking about him—Harold. How he was so picky about his suits, how concerned he always was with John’s well being. The satisfaction of earning a rare, small smile from the smaller man. John groaned. He was mad at himself for letting his mind go there. This was his boss for gods sake! Not to mention a man who had shown absolutely no interest in men ever before, but then again, from the outside looking in, neither had John. 

Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore, the tightness that had slowly been growing in his boxers was too much. He slipped his hand below the waistband of his boxers and moaned when he thought about Harold watching him, encouraging him, whispering in his ear. Putting his hands on his chest. It wasn’t long until John’s head rolled back and he came all over his shirtless stomach.  
It had felt so good. John wanted that in real life. He ached for it. As frustrated as he was that he couldn’t get Harold Finch out of his mind, he couldn’t deny that he liked it. It was useless though, it would never work out. He rolled over onto his stomach, punched his pillow, and soon fell into a restless sleep.

**

The next morning, Reese was still drowning in shame when he showed up at the library—twenty minutes later than he was expected. Finch didn’t even turn around and the team was already deep in discussion about one of the numbers. 

“Look who decided to show up!” Root got up from her chair and slapped Reese on the back while unceremoniously taking a bite out of her apple. Reese cleared his throat.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Late night?” Shaw grinned.

“Something like that.”

It was only then that Finch turned around to face John. “While your extra-circulars are certainly none of my business, Mr. Reese, I must ask that you stay focused on the task at hand. You’ve been late every day this week.”

John wanted to scream. He felt like he was going to explode in frustration. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about work, it was that seeing Finch was so distracting, so confusing, so mind mindbogglingly frustrating, that he didn’t dare torture himself by staying in the library longer than needed. Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. It never would. John was always going to do exactly what Finch asked. He nodded curtly while looking down at his shoes, embarrassed.

“Won’t happen again, Finch.”

Shaw studied Reese. If she didn’t know better she’d think—no. It couldn’t be that. 

The next thirty minutes were filled with discussions about two different numbers they had received, both tied to the same crime from ten years ago. In the middle of the discussion, Reese’s stomach growled. He had forgotten to eat breakfast. Finch asked if he should order him food but Reese waved off the suggestion. When they were done, it was decided that Shaw and Reese would each track one of the numbers while Root would do recon on the victim of the crime from 10 years ago. 

Shaw walked into the other room to get her coat and she heard Finch call Reese back to talk privately. She didn’t think anything of it at first, but she couldn’t help but overhear.

“Mr. Reese is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Finch. Everything’s great.”

“You seem—like something is eating you up inside.”

Reese stiffened. “Everything’s fine, Finch. I just have some stuff going on that I’d rather not discuss.”

“That is your prerogative, Mr. Reese. Forgive my forwardness, but I do need you to know—I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Reese snorted and turned to leave, “I thought you said you’d never lie to me, Finch.”

This was the point when Shaw understood what was happening. Reese never got frustrated with Finch. The being late, the avoiding eye contact with Finch, the questions about her and Root. It made sense now. It was Finch. Reese was falling for Finch. It hit her so hard she dropped her coat as she saw Reese fly by with his jaw set and his fists clenched. She new that stance. It was the same stance she took for a solid year every time Root was getting under her skin and she didn’t know what to do about it. 

Reese and Finch, the more Shaw thought about it, the more it actually made perfect sense. They would actually be kinda cute together, although she would never admit that to anyone. It also made sense for their weird little family. The only question was, did Finch feel the same?

**

Reese flew out of the library angrier than ever. How could Finch say that, ‘whatever you need’? Whatever he needs? What he needs is to slowly take Finch’s shirt off and breathe him in. What he needs is to feel him mold to his body while Reese engulfs him from behind. What he needs is to know that Finch is going to be there when he wakes up. And Finch isn’t capable of fulfilling any of those needs. 

Finch lied. And he said he wouldn’t do that. Reese was furious. He knew it wasn’t fair to Finch to be so angry—Finch had never intended for his words to be taken in any other way other than pure friendship. But it didn’t change the fact that normally calm, cool, and collected Reese was angry. When he heard Finch come through on the com line, he nearly growled. It was going to be a long day for sure.

**

After Reese stormed out, Finch stood by his desk in the library for a full five minutes. He couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. He knew that Mr. Reese was a private man, but something was clearly bothering him and, whatever it was, Finch desperately wanted to help. It irritated him to no end when Mr. Reese shut him out, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.

He also couldn’t figure out why it bothered him. It didn’t seem to bother him when Ms. Groves or Ms. Shaw stormed off, yet it was different with Mr. Reese. It always had been. And therein lied the problem. He cared too much about the man, certainly for being his employer and even on a friend level. Harold knew he cared too much but he couldn’t help himself. Whenever Mr. Reese was hurting it hurt Harold deeply when he couldn’t help; he knew it wasn’t his place but he didn’t care. He would always care about John Reese, like he cared about Grace.

Grace. He loved her so much. Was it possible be loved John in the same way? No—he threw that thought out of his mind. That was absurd. That wasn’t what he felt for Mr. Reese—no—what he felt for Mr. Reese was something much different, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.


	4. Roger That, Loverboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a boring chapter, but it needed to happen.

The next morning Root was up at an ungodly hour and Shaw had a lot to say about it. 

“Root what the hell? Its like 5 in the morning.”

“Sorry Sameen. The Machine has sent me an odd request and I must obey.”

“At five in the fucking morning? What in the hell could she possibly want?”

“The request is straight forward but the reasoning behind it I have no insight to.”

“Root if youre going to wake me up at 5 in the morning you had better at least tell me why.”

Root smiled and ran her finger down Shaw’s nose. 

“I’m to get two hot drinks—John and Finch’s orders, and then have John show up with them this morning to the library.”

Shaw laughed and rolled back over to go to sleep. 

**  
Reese was none too happy when Root appeared on his way to work with two coffee cups in hand and an obnoxious smile on her face. 

“Good morning, Lurch!” She said. Reese groaned inwardly.

“What are you doing here, Root?”

“The machine sent me. Two drinks, one yours and one for Harold. You are to bring them to the library this morning.”

Reese was skeptical—if Shaw had opened her damn mouth he was going to shoot her.

“The machine said that did she?”

“Yes,” Root said brightly.

“Sure she did. If the Machine’s name was Sameen Shaw.”

Root stopped Reese in his tracks and stared him down. “What does this have to do with Sameen? You are supposed to take the coffees!”

Just then Reese heard Shaw on their private comm line, “Have fun playing boyfriend with Finch this morning?”

“Shaw do you care to explain why Root is standing in front of me right now?”

“Its that damn machine, Reese. I swear. God knows I don’t care about your life enough to go blabbing about your googly eyes to Root of all people.”

Reese scowled. He knew Shaw wouldn’t lie to him. He also didn’t like that the Machine was now involved. Reese pushed past Root and muttered, “Take it to Finch yourself, Root.”

He walked away and took a detour to work. The comm line between him and Shaw was still open.

“She’s going to start asking questions, Shaw.”

“What do you want me to do? It’s not my fault—blame that stupid machine.”

“Don’t worry, I am. Say how did you figure it out? Is it really that obvious?”

“Nah I think you’re good. Granted Root will probably bombard me with questions tonight but I don’t think anyone has noticed.”

“Yeah but how did YOU notice?”

“The clenched fists. Back when Root was driving me insane and I couldn’t do anything about it, I must have walked away from her at least a hundred times with my fists clenched. You need to get laid, dude.”

Reese sighed and rubbed his head. “Listen just make sure she doesn’t tell Finch, promise? And get that stupid fucking machine to stay out of it. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Roger that, Loverboy.”

That night Shaw was cleaning her guns on the kitchen table when Root brought her a whiskey neat and sat down across from her to oogle her. Shaw knew Root was getting ready to pump her for info so she decided to get out ahead of it. 

“What do you think Finch’s ‘type’ is?”

“Harry?” Root raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Kinda weird don’t you think? We’ve never seen him pursue anyone.”

“I mean he was in love with Grace. Why are you asking all these questions, Sameen? Since when have you been interested in the human condition?”

Shaw flipped the takedown trigger on her .45 M&P Shield and separated the slide from the barrel. Root came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. Sameen grinned.

“Reese is totally falling for Finch.”

And just like that Root stopped her pursuit and turned to look at Sameen. Sameen laughed when she saw the look on Root’s face.

“I’m being dead serious right now, Root.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I promise you its 100% possible. Why do you think the Machine asked you to have Reese take Finch his precious imported hot tea? She’s trying to figure it out too.”

“The machine would have told me if that was true.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “You know that stupid machine doesn’t tell you everything, right?”

Root glared and Sameen knew it was because of how she spoke about the machine. For better or worse Sameen had come to accept that her girlfriend had another girlfriend and under no circumstances could she speak negatively of her.

“I didn’t mean like ‘stupid’ like dumb I meant it like, you know.”

“No I don’t know.”

Shaw sighed. “Can we get back to the fact that Reese literally can not be around Harold for more than five seconds without running out of the room in a fit of sexual frustration?”

Root was quiet and looked down at the table. She didn’t have enough data points to know if Harold would or could be interested. And why hadn’t the machine told her? Perhaps the Machine was trying to gain more data points. The machine would protect personal data like that, especially for Harry. She was slightly irritated that Sameen had known before her. How had Sameen of all people figured it out? Possibly before the Machine?

“How did you figure it out?”

“Recognize the face of someone who wants to bone another person? Its not that hard. Plus I think its worse than just wanting to bone. I think he thinks he is in love with the guy? Can you believe that? Humanity is wild.”

Root rolled her eyes and grinned at the blunt way Sameen had chosen to express things. 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Shaw shrugged. “Yeah so I recognize the clenched fists and constant tongue biting that happens when you’re forced to work with someone you can’t have. So what?”

“Are you saying you love me, Sameen?”

With that, Shaw snorted and walked away.


	5. So Harry, What Kind of Porn Do You Like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst at updating

On a Friday night a couple weeks later, the team was all settled in the Library celebrating a successful rescue mission for one of their numbers. Finch had carefully crafted the entire thing—everyone had their favorite drink and Finch was hoping a night with the four of them could help lift Mr. Reese’s spirits. Finch had been beside himself ever since John had stormed out of the Library and no matter what he tried, it seemed Mr Reese was determined to shut him out.

So it would be an understatement to say that he was disappointed when Mr. Reese not only announced he couldn’t stay, but invited Ms Shaw to get a drink at a bar a couple blocks over. Ms Shaw accepted, mumbling something about how she was owed a steak, and soon enough Finch was left with a terrible mix of emotions ranging from jealousy to hurt. And Ms Groves, he had been left with Ms Groves.

“I suppose you will enjoy a night to yourself, Ms Groves,” He said in an attempt to be left alone to wallow in his own frustrations.

“Oh Harry, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone at a time like this. What do you say you and I see who at the CIA doesn’t have MFA on their exchange accounts?”

**

Thirty minutes later Root decided the three drinks she had all but forced on Harry was enough to loosen him up a bit—or so she thought. The machine kept buzzing in her ear, whispering to go home, to abort this conversation.

But Sameen had known before the Machine, and that irked Root. She did not like that. She needed more data points, so she decided to ease the conversation into the subject gradually.

“So Harry, what kind of porn do you like?”

Harold choked on his wine and dropped the glass on the floor. Root smiled, missing how her abrupt questioning into his personal preferences could ever go sideways.

“Ms. Groves!” Harry starred at her incredulously. She smiled sweetly and batted her eyes. 

“Personally it doesn’t really do it for me, but you seem like the type of guy who could enjoy a good smut film. So what is it?”

Harry’s bugged out eyes and flush face were lost completely on Root.

“This is not appropriate work conversation!”

Root rolled her eyes. “Please, Harry. Since when has anything we ever done been ‘appropriate’? I’m living with an assassin for god’s sake. I kidnapped you. You hired a dog who follows your every command and never does so much as bark without your permission. And then there is Bear—I don’t know any other coworkers who hold each other at gunpoint over whose turn it is to take Bear home.”

“John is NOT a dog!” Harry snapped. Root smiled—that was a quality data point. She hopped off her stool happily and seemed to hop over to Harry’s desk. She pouted and gave her best puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, Harry. Of course the Big Lug is more than just a faithful golden retriever to you. The question is, when will YOU realize that?”

**

Harold was quite disturbed by his conversation with Ms. Groves. What on earth could her intension be by discussing such vulgar things? And how DARE she compare John—Mr. Reese—to a dog! How dare she! Harold owed his life to that man—he owed everything to that man. If only he could understand why Mr. Reese had been so angry and cold to him lately. Perhaps he was feeling used? Maybe it was time he give Mr. Reese a vacation?

**

“So you ever gonna grow up and do something about it?” Shaw asked over burgers (still not the steak she was owed).

“What is there to do about it? I don’t even know if he is in to men!”

“He doesn’t have to be in to men, just you. And by the way that dude freaks out whenever you as much as sneeze, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance.”

Reese stayed quiet and stared at his beer—no matter how solid of an observation Shaw may have, he wouldn’t even begin to know how to confirm the theory. 

“Listen, you know I hate when the Machine is right, but maybe bring the guy some of that tea he likes so much? Ask what books he is reading, feel it out a bit.”

“Its not that—”

“Its either you bring him some of that nasty tea tomorrow morning or I get you an escort tonight—you decide. I’m not putting up with this mopey pining shit forever, Reese. Its been months that you’ve been acting like this and I for one don’t know how much more I can take.”

**  
The next morning Reese carefully balanced exactly two cups on his way up the library stairs. He was nervous and he didn’t know why. He had shown up early and had planned 5 different conversations to have with Harold before the rest of the team got there. Every single one of those conversation starters were forgotten the second that Reese saw Finch playing with Bear. Finch was smiling and laughing and had a light gray suit on with one of those old school pocket watches dangling out of his chest pocket. Reese couldn’t help forget the reason he was there—Finch looked amazing, everything that Reese himself was not. He had trouble putting it in to words but he knew that he liked seeing Finch like this.

“Mr. Reese?” 

John had totally zoned out and had no idea that Finch said anything. “Uh sorry, what was that, Finch?”

“I asked what you were doing here so early.”

John had also forgotten, as he had momentarily let his mind wander to how flustered Finch may be if Reese was to remove his pocket watch and unbutton his vest. Luckily he recovered. 

“Uh. I brought coffee—erm I mean tea. That sencha tea you like. Thought maybe you could use some,” Reese shrugged, suddenly feeling stupid.

Finch was confused—last night John wanted nothing to do with him; rejected his attempts to even be in the same room for longer than necessary, and now he was standing in front of him, 30 minutes early, with his favorite drink in hand. Whatever else may be going on was going to have to wait, Finch decided. He wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to see Mr. Reese in such a good mood. He smiled at John as the taller man walked over slowly and handed him a cup. He seemed to be standing so close, much closer than necessary. Harold felt small and noticed he was holding his breath—for what he didn’t know. 

And then just like that, Mr. Reese had moved away and Harold couldn’t for the life of him figure out why that bothered him so much.


End file.
